Power Trip
by Zighana
Summary: Tucker has had it: being the sidekick, the comic relief, the minor character many ignore. But when he decides to enter the dark side, he proves to be a formidable foe than he was an ally. Mild to moderate violence, graphic language, mild sexual content! Tucker-centric
1. Prequel

**Power Trip**

"Tucker, grab the Fenton Thermos _now_!" Tucker picked himself up from the ground he slammed into seconds before and raced to the thermos. Sweat, grass, and filth carved into his face, making the once clean geek look rugged and wild. Two hours has it been like this: Tucker holding off Skulker with his PDA while trying to not get murdered and eaten by the Lunch Lady's Mystery Meat. Two hours it's been since it had been Tucker and Tucker alone fighting them off while Danny was trying to enter the Ghost Zone and retrieve some item he won't mention. Tucker's body, on auto-pilot, grabbed the Thermos and sucked Skulker and the Lunch Lady simultaneously. Before he could gloat, he was smacked into a brick wall by Mystery Meat. As Tucker looks into the monstrosity that calls itself meat, he thinks of how convenient it would be to be a vegetarian. As his life flashed before his eyes, he was once again saved by Danny Phantom, in the midst of a cheering crowd, but it wasn't for Tucker. It was for Danny, as usual.

"Thank you, thank you, but the credit shouldn't go to me," Danny began. Tucker dusted the rubble off of him, looking at Danny hopefully.

"If it wasn't for Sam telling Tucker to grab the Thermos, these two wouldn't be alive right now."

That hit his nerve right in the kill zone.

Applause roared, and then Danny flew Tucker and Sam back to their headquarters in the blink of an eye.

"What was all that about?" Tucker asks Danny. Danny lied on his bed with Sam snuggled to him, playing with each other's hair.

"What was what?" Danny replied.

"That whole 'if it wasn't for Sam' bit. While you and Sam were gone, I was fighting off two ghosts _by_ _myself_. I deserve a little more credit."

Danny snorts.

"Tucker, you fought them off with your technology. I wouldn't consider it by yourself,"

"But I still held my own, with and without it. You didn't bother to notice it." Tucker glared.

"What's wrong with you lately, Tucker? You've been acting like you've been eating lemons all week."

"Because I feel like you're not appreciating me as a friend. You've been acting like I'm some useless sidekick when I've been pulling more than my weight in this trio!"

"What are you talking about? Of course I appreciate you!"

"No you haven't! Every time we battle some ghost and rescue the world, the world applauds you and Sam, while I fade into the background. It's all about you and Sam lately! _Inviso-Bill and his trusty Goth Girlfriend! Danny Phantom and Samantha Manson, power couple of Amity Park!_ Where do I fit in? They don't even know I'm a part of this team!" Tucker stomped his foot.

"Who works the technology? Who covers for you when your parents come knocking? Who takes the fall for every stupid stunt you've done? Who has been modifying and creating more efficient tech for you to catch the bad guys? Who has been getting their ass kicked playing bait while you fight?" Tucker's in Danny's face now, nostrils flaring and eyes full of pent-up frustration.

"And who has been trying to cope with being the unwanted third wheel when you and Sam decided to be a couple? Who always pulled you and Sam out of doom when you two were too wrapped up in yourselves time and time again? And _who_ has been there for you regardless of how much of an asshole you've been? " he whispered gravely. Before Danny could answer, Tucker stormed to the front door of his room.

"And the sad part is I don't get as much as a thank you. I don't get any credit, any recognition, and any different title other than, _Tucker the Weakling Tag-Along_." Tucker said.

"Are you seriously getting angry at us because we don't congratulate you for every time you fight a ghost and _live_? Well _thank you_, Tucker, for putting yourself in danger!" Danny replied.

"_That's not what I meant at all_!" Tucker bellowed.

"I'm sick and tired of you doubting me. Tired of you treating me as your errand boy because you think I'm not strong enough to be a formidable fighter and companion. I'm not that wimp in Junior High, Danny. I'm strong; I've proved to you time and time again that I can hold my own and _still_ you treat me like a sidekick! I don't want to be your sidekick anymore, Danny." Danny looked at Tucker, waiting for what's next.

"I want to be your equal. And if you can't see it that way, then you can see yourself with one less ally."

SLAM.

Danny looked back at Sam, then back at the door. They did not realize the shit-storm they just started.


	2. Chapter 2: Anger (Fuck You)

**Chapter Two: Anger**

The Foley household is in a state of awkward silence. Mrs. Foley eyes her husband as she took a glance at their son. He sits at the foot of the table, eating his dinner wordlessly. The once talkative halls are now filled with a deafening silence that drives the matriarch mad.

It's been two weeks since Tucker announced that he and Danny are no longer friends, and it seems it's been two weeks since his attitude worsened. Mrs. Foley never understood the reasons of her son's falling out with the Fenton boy other than, '_Danny has his own head up his rear'_. So far, she knows not to pry for more explanation. It's been a sour week for the Foley's: Mr. Foley lost his job to some workers in a different country, Mrs. Foley's sister passed away, and Tucker has gotten rejection letters from the top 3 colleges of his choosing. Needless to say, Tucker took his loss pretty hard.

"They told me they wanted an _athletic_ student with a 4.0 GPA and high SAT's. Since when does being a jock have to be necessary for a _tech_ school?" Tucker rants one day while shoveling eggs in his mouth.

"I had dreams of being a technology engineer and this whole athletic requirement totally throws a wrench in my dreams," he sulks. Mrs. Foley could only smile sadly, offer words of encouragement and speeches of how failure is another step to success, and let nature takes its course as her son rides out his gloom.

But this week, Tucker hasn't been sulking as usual. Instead, he's quiet, angry, like a time bomb ready to go off while he shovels the peas in his mouth. It unnerves the parents as they're unsure of what to do next.

"Sweetie, how was school today?" She asks, hoping for a response.

"Great, Mom. Got another A on my Physics test, passed my fitness run with a C-, and Dash slammed me in a locker and smashed my brand new PDA."

She winces at the last sentence, while Mr. Foley bristles in his seat.

"I'm sick of that punk destroying your tech that we spent out hard-earned money on, and I'm sick of you letting him! That's five thousand dollars worth of equipment wasted!" Mr. Foley shouts.

"You think I _let_ him? You think I just walked up to Dash, saying 'here's my expensive PDA, please smash it'? He beats me up whenever _Danny_ isn't there to be his punching bag!"

"Then _stand up for_ _yourself_! Do some push-ups, run some laps, lift some weights! The only way to beat a bully is with your _fists_! You're eighteen years old, Tucker. Being a weakling in the face of a giant coward won't do for your last days of high school."

Tucker bends his fork in aggravation. He looks up at his father, looks at his mother, and then leaves the table.

"He's not Tucker anymore," Mrs. Foley says.

"He's realizing he needs to be a man. It's time for him to grow up, Sherri. We've been dreading this day to come for a long time," her husband replies, wiping his glasses with his napkin.

"He's becoming his own man in _his own_ terms, not in _Danny's shadow_."

**The Next Week**

Tucker runs another lap on the track field, the brisk wind robbing his asthmatic lungs of oxygen but he doesn't care. Adrenaline is pumping in his veins, music blasting in his ears, and violent thoughts swimming in his mind are enough to keep him going. He's training to get more in shape; cardio is one of his favorite ways of going about it.

He counts off the laps in his head as he runs, congratulating himself as he hits a number past six. When he reaches ten laps, he stops to do five sets of lunges, eight sets of crunches, and seven sets of push-ups. When he does his five minute shadow-boxing, he stops and gives himself a nice drink of cool water before jogging back to school before first period starts.

Today is officially the last day of school; everyone has been on their best behavior lest they don't want to walk for graduation ceremony. Even Dash has been on his best behavior, in the eyes of the teachers. When their backs are turned, the star athlete becomes every nerd's tormentor. Dash made a list of all the geeks, freaks, and nerds he'd ridicule and tease (girls excluded) before they'd be out of his grasp when the summer hits. When he crosses off each one and finds Tucker Foley as his last victim, he smiles evilly.

Lunch couldn't come fast enough; Tucker races to the cafeteria and piles his plate high with food and chows down. The final day is the last day for exams; as if the teachers had anything better to do than to make students squirm with their last-minute tests. English sucked, Physics was a piece of cake, Mathematics was like breathing, Biology involved another frog dissection (that Sam valiantly protested, but failed), and Chemistry is a nightmare. All Tucker needed to get through is Art and P.E. and he'd be home in no time.

As he eats another greasy chicken wing, his face is smashed into his food. When he hears loud laughter, he knows who's responsible.

"Well, if it isn't _Fenturd's_ sidekick," Dash sneers. Tucker wipes the mashed potato and peas off his face and stands to face his bully.

'_Stand up for_ _yourself!_' Tucker hears his father's voice boom in his head.

"I think it's time you stop picking on me, Dash." Tucker warns, gritting his teeth. He's had enough of this chicken-shit ruining his day.

"What are you going to do about it, wimp!"

'_The only way to beat a bully is with your fists!' _Tucker balls up his fists. This is the moment of truth. He can either walk away or go further.

"I'm going to kick your ass."

'_You're eighteen years old, Tucker. Being a weakling in the face of a giant coward won't do for your last days of high school.'_

No turning back now. Dash, being egged on by his peers, gets in Tucker's face.

"Hit me with your best shot, _sidekick_."

Tucker didn't need to be told twice.

In a blur, Tucker finds himself in the principal's office, with a police officer standing behind him.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened, Foley. You and Baxter need to tell me what happened, because someone needs to get punished."

Tucker told the truth and nothing but the truth in a heartbeat. He looks at the principal, searching for clues behind that cold exterior. Silence happened for what seemed like an hour, until he says,

"You're off the hook, Foley. You better be lucky you're my star pupil."

Tucker leaves the Principal's office, shaky and emotional. He got into his first fist fight, and from what he sees, he won. From what he heard he punched Dash, and then kept on punching him until the cop pulled him off. Dash was hurt pretty badly when the school nurse saw him.

Tucker sits on the hood of a stranger's car, reflecting on the past events. He stood up for himself, and for once, he didn't get punished for it. The adrenaline's wearing off, and his brain's kicking in. he fought Dash Baxter. And won. He had done what every nerd fantasized about since they got crammed into lockers. He didn't need ghost powers or high tech gadgets; he fought him fair and square and _won_! Tucker glances at his hands and grins. He didn't need ghost powers or gadgets; his human strength and power is all he needs. No crutches to rely on like Danny or Skulker; he's stronger than them.

Smarter than them.

Better than them.

He clutches his hand into a fist and punches the car's hood. He punches the windows until glass breaks and his hands are drenched in glass shards and gore. He screams at the top of his lungs, pounding his head with his bloodied hand. He'd been standing in Danny's shadow for so long; he never realized he didn't need them, he didn't need anyone. Fuck Danny.

Fuck Sam.

Fuck Dash.

Fuck Valerie.

Fuck Paulina.

Fuck Kwan.

Fuck Star.

_Fuck Mr. Lancer_!

_Fuck Casper High_!

_FUCK AMITY PARK_**!**

"**FUCK YOU!**" he shouts to the sky, hollering until his throat is raspy and he punches another window for good measure. Admiring his handiwork, he hops off the car, gives Casper High the only finger that mattered before vanishing from the school, and the town, forever.


End file.
